


Heartbreakers Gonna Break

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Immortal (The Old Guard), Alternate Universe - Porn, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Flirting, Getting Together, Humour, Kink Meme, M/M, Making Out, Modern Era, Porn With Plot, Romance, Sex Toys, Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: "What else?" Andy probes."Kozak's on wardrobe.""And?""He looks like a gigolo from the Nineties."Despite the foreboding notion that this might turn into the shoot from Hell, Yusuf snorts.Probably intending to continue his assessment of the situation taking place in the other room, Booker turns fully to face him, but stops confusedly, going comically still but for his eyes dubiously tracking him from head to toe.Wrinkling his nose, he asks him, "Is that what you're wearing?"Written forthisKink Meme prompt.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 115
Kudos: 297





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this story for about three weeks. I'm biting the bullet and posting the first part before I chicken out completely.
> 
> (More tags to come!)
> 
> Title from "Shake It Off" by Taylor Swift, because this is how we do it in this household. XD

Booker speaks out first, which Yusuf knows for a fact because he happens to be wasting time on his phone huddled in a corner of the room when he walks in from the corridor, door snapping shut at his back, and beelines for Andy with thunder in his eyes.

"It's bullshit, Boss." The dark circles only enhance the storm, though Andy's weary sigh deflates him a tad.

When Booker's head turns his way, having just noticed his presence, Yusuf waves at him with his best five-fingered wiggle, face half-hidden behind his phone's screen, eyebrows wagging obnoxiously. It might be from some mistaken need to act somewhat professional in the face of Yusuf so obviously being a little shit that Booker doesn't good-naturedly give him the finger, but Yusuf can tell the need is twisting inside him.

"It's a nice place they've got here," he chimes in, tone even, a keenly-aimed non sequitur. His best attempt at calming the waters, seeing as Andy is rubbing her brow rather vacantly while inspecting the same lens she's been holding for the last five minutes and Booker's hair is standing up at geometry-defying angles.

Booker shoots him a look. Stares at the ceiling consideringly, if not unseeingly. "Charming upholstery. Very eye-catching," he mutters, looking vaguely constipated the entire time.

"What now?" And he didn't know this called for a _what now_ sort of reaction from Andy. Yusuf was waking from a nap forty-five minutes ago. He's far from conscious enough to deal with whatever shit the afternoon might be turning into.

"Nothing much," Booker replies, though his left eye is precariously close to twitching. "Only that I just spent twenty minutes of film interviewing a feral alley cat."

Although his phone wasn't that interesting to begin with, that unequivocally blows it completely out of the water where Yusuf's attention is concerned.

"Aggressive?" Andy inquires, voice intentionally non-committal.

"Nonverbal," he pronounces, frowning heavily, as if that might be the harshest sin of all. "But he was shooting daggers through the camera eye. Thought the viewfinder was going to explode. And Merrick's _hovering_." There's something ominous in that word in particular which Yusuf's brain isn't grasping, too ill-equipped yet to parse nuance, though he doubts there's little enough to be found in Merrick's customary dickish behaviour.

"What else?" Andy probes.

"Kozak's on wardrobe."

"And?"

"He looks like a gigolo from the Nineties."

Despite the foreboding notion that this might turn into the shoot from Hell, Yusuf snorts. At least the digs are nice enough. Adjoining hotel rooms with a connecting door even, though it's been locked the entire time Yusuf's been here, which, if that doesn't bode badly, he doesn't know what does. Maybe Booker's frustrated rage. Or Andy's precise blankness.

Probably intending to continue his assessment of the situation taking place in the other room, Booker turns fully to face him, but stops confusedly, going comically still but for his eyes dubiously tracking him from head to toe.

Wrinkling his nose, he asks him, "Is that what you're wearing?"

Yusuf's eyebrows try to make a home for themselves in the middle of his forehead for a moment, before Booker's face cracks into a grin. "I like the pink, actually," he counters, a faint, knowing smile plastered on his face.

Giving him another once-over, Booker shrugs, conceding with a smirk, "Better than the gigolo outfit."

"Your input, as always, is greatly appreciated." They grin at each other until the sound of the connecting door opening and closing with twin clicks snaps their attention from the other, both turning towards it, oddly in sync.

From having worked together in the past Merrick and his regular crew are familiar enough to Yusuf that he straight away knows he shouldn't bother trying to place the figure standing by the door. Besides the fact he's reasonably sure there's little chance he'd forget whoever this is. Something about the eyes.

Those eyes scan every surface of the room before looking up at Yusuf specifically with a complicated expression. "Is this where I should be?"

He doesn't have an answer to that, but, fortunately, Booker calls out, "Nicky! Of course, over here," and looks expectantly at Yusuf, who manages to offer up a generic greeting and his own name almost as an afterthought.

"Yes, I know," Nicky says in painfully exact syllables, and Yusuf might be imagining the blush. But, then again, maybe not when Nicky adds, "I have watched your videos before."

If nothing else, Yusuf knows how to take a compliment and give it right back. "Can't say I've had the pleasure. I'm sure I'd remember," he says plainly. Tempted as he is to wiggle his eyebrows or something equally ridiculous to break any forthcoming tension before it gets the chance to form, that sort of thing doesn't quite work with someone you've only just met whom you're about to put your dick into in less than an hour.

That is, if Yusuf's correct in assuming they're shooting together. Although, given the situation he's been described up until now, nothing would surprise him. Idly, he muses it would almost be a shame if they didn't, but cuts down on that line of thinking before his brain starts getting ideas.

But, after all, he must have assumed correctly, because one corner of Nicky's mouth tips upwards in obvious amusement, hardly the expected reaction otherwise. "It's the nose," he says ruefully.

Before Yusuf can contradict him, Andy steps in to say, "Did Nile take care of you already?"

Snapping to attention with more professionalism than probably anyone under Andy ever has, which is saying a lot, Nicky replies, "Yes, ma'am." Even his back is slightly straighter. Booker shakes his head in dismay, but Yusuf thinks he must be at least a little charmed, he and Andy both judging by the amused little frown she's sporting.

"Book and I will finish setting up. Yusuf can give you what you need."

And with that suggestive turn of phrase they both vacate the room, carrying out any leftover gear and closing the connecting door with a decisive metal click. It leaves them standing in what Yusuf imagines is the worst conversational dead end in the history of the universe.

He makes a valiant effort to overcome it. There's a reason he's lasted this long in the industry, after all, and it's not his rather magnificent cock.

"I believe she meant prep paraphernalia and the like. She has a particular way of putting things," he explains, voice dipping as if sharing in a bit of gossip rather than the most obvious Andy fact besides her penchant for sickly-sweet desserts.

"Of course."

"What do you need?" he runs through the question, ignoring the implications Andy threw in. "We have an entire box," and he uses the heel of his shoe to prod the see-through plastic container of assorted sex toys he's certain Nile probably had the pleasure of carrying around the hotel with the finest shit-eating grin known to human folk. He waves at the nightstand littered with several bottles of lube, as well as boxes of condoms stacked next to it in the corner.

"Uh." He's not used to seeing this level of hesitation in anyone who's been in the industry for any amount of time.

All of a sudden something clicks in his brain which should have occurred to him earlier. "I can make myself scarce," although he has no clue where he's supposed to relocate. "Or, er, there's the en suite," he offers. He doesn't look forward to effectively hiding in the bathroom from his cute but shy scene partner, but he remembers well enough being an awkward newbie.

"This will be fine," Nicky says. "It's my first time," he explains.

"Sorry?" Yusuf's eyes must inflate to astronomical proportions because Nicky is laughing under his breath.

"No, no, you mistake me. I have been shooting for twelve months," and Yusuf swears his expression clouds for an instant there, but he continues affably enough. "I meant I have only done other types of scenes," he says slowly. "Not this."

"Oh." He doesn't know what prompts him to say it, but he finds himself throwing the words, "May I help?" out into the universe, only to watch them crash about rather pathetically.

It's Nicky's turn to look like he's been caught in a rather bright pair of headlights.

"Or not," Yusuf hurriedly says, but Nicky's already scrambling to answer, "Yes," a little breathlessly, lips parted long after he speaks this one word.

"Oh," Yusuf repeats. Then, "I think they're giving us space." From past experience, he's pretty sure Andy and the rest of the Scythia crew know how this goes, much less seeing as it's presumably Nicky's first bottoming scene, of which Andy must be fully aware. Would've been nice if someone had tipped him off as well, but he's willing to roll with the punches here.

"Should I..." Nicky starts a little vaguely, gazing around them. His hair is a little long, brushing his cheeks with each movement.

"Take your trousers off." They both laugh after a beat. "No, but, really," Yusuf says. False modesty isn't going to get them anywhere.

"Sure," Nicky nods. As he's unbuttoning, he asks, "The bed?"

"Yeah." He leaves him to it, going to wash up in the en suite.

He's being particularly thorough between his fingers, pumping enough extra liquid soap he could set up his own garden slide. He dries his hands while carefully ignoring the elephant in the room.

Upon returning to the bedroom he finds Nicky naked from the waist down and resting on his elbows close to the edge of the bed, socked feet touching the floor. It's both endearing and oddly hot.

His thighs are nicely muscles and his hip bones poke out a little in this position, though Yusuf's surprised to notice the bit of lower belly he's afforded where his shirt has risen up looks pleasantly average rather than the usual defined abdominals. His cock is half-hard, a good handful protruding from a thatch of neatly-trimmed hair a shade or two darker than the one on his head. Although he's flushed all over, his eyes are keen, his body relaxed and vaguely thrumming with the sort of excited energy Yusuf likes to bask in before a really good shoot.

The elephant has turned a particularly garish shade of purple. Yusuf has to ask. "Have you fingered yourself before?"

"Yes." No hesitation. Boding well.

"Good. Toys?" Nicky nods. "What would you like best right now?"

"Your fingers," he gets at once.

Thing is, he's flirted with his scene partners before. Although it's backfired into awkwardness a few rare times, it mostly tends to add to the on-screen chemistry. He's even helped with prep. It's no big deal, never mind Nicky's half-lowered lids or the way his gaze refuses to stray from Yusuf's face.

He grabs the nearest bottle of lube as Nicky's right leg rises to the mattress. Heel balanced on the edge and legs parted to allow Yusuf to slot his torso between them as he gets to his knees on the floor, Nicky watches him squirt out a generous amount for two fingers with unwavering focus. His eyes never leave him as he rubs the fingers together to warm them up, then reaches for the edge of his rim and the smattering of hair surrounding it. He hasn't seen much beyond perfectly waxed genitals in a long time, his included. It's oddly nice. Sort of pleasant in a way he can't quite put into words, though that's a thought for another time.

Right now, he rubs around his hole first, feeling it instantly wink beneath the pads of his fingers. He hears Nicky sigh from above him, but he's trying to concentrate here, and he doubts watching his flushed face getting progressively redder in that attractive way it has would be conducive to anything resembling that. Before he considers slipping in, he tests the give, which he finds easily yielding to his touch. If Nicky's been filming for a year, even though he doesn't do this specifically, he must know to show up clean and ready. Probably fingered himself in the shower beforehand. He swallows heavily and presses in with his middle finger in one long, smooth movement which buries it to the last knuckle. Nicky's insides grip him firmly, clenching around it, but his cock is now fully hard and his breaths are deep and even.

His gaze flickers upwards. Nicky's breathing through his mouth and he's red all over, looking overwhelmed and eager. Must be a gift on camera. "Good?"

"Very, uh, yes." At Yusuf's probing hum, he tries again, "It's not, uh, it's better than my own—" his finger crooks towards his belly searchingly, "—I mean—" pinpointing the sweet spot rather quickly to rub at it in circles as his other hand pressed down on his lower belly, "—yes, I, _yes_ ," which is by far the most nonsensical string of words he's ever heard.

His finger slips out until only the tip is breaching him. "That sounded as if you didn't quite know where that sentence was going when you started," Yusuf comments because he can. Because sex is supposed to be fun, even when you're prepping someone you've never met before minutes before going in front of cameras to do so much more. And because Yusuf's a little shit.

Still closer to panting breaths than normal breathing, Nicky goes through the trouble of briefly resting all of his weight on one elbow in order to give him the finger, and Yusuf barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. Judging by Nicky's grin and the twitch of his cockhead, he's not terribly offended.

On the next slide in it's two fingers. Nicky huffs heavily, but he knows to push out. He lets him breathe at the first knuckle, then again at the second, scissoring them a little. He rocks inside for several minutes, pouring more lube from the bottle, retreating to just the tips before sliding back in nearer and nearer the base of his fingers. Finally, after he's lost track of how many minutes it's been, he sinks in fully. He watches Nicky's belly dip for an instant, trembling minutely, and he finds himself reaching forward to rub his palm across it in calming circles. He glances up to check for a reaction once the quivers have subsided.

Somewhere along the way, either Nicky's elbows must have given out or he decided to lie back in a less precarious position. His eyes are closed. He doesn't look to be in pain. Yusuf curls his fingers, and he grunts and seizes up, but his body is following his lead, grinding a little into his palm where it's cupping his balls now, the other still rubbing at the patch of skin above his pubic hair. Nicky's fingers are scrambling into the sheets and his toes are curling either side of Yusuf's knees. Warning bells sound in his head.

As gently as he possibly can, he starts pulling his fingers out, grasping at Nicky's hip bone to still him when he tries to follow. His empty hole clenches around nothing once his fingers are free, gleaming from the lube, splashed a deeper pink now.

"You should put a plug in until we start shooting," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact.

He's fully aware that not only is he hard, but his own trousers aren't doing him any favours where hiding his erection is concerned, but that's just how it goes sometimes. Better than that best-forgotten shoot where he had to pull up pictures on his phone of that one Italian actor he likes while he jacked it in the bathroom for ten minutes before he was good to go. Booker has yet to let him live that one down.

He stands and grabs for the wet wipes next to the bottles of lube. Their eyes lock when he passes them to Nicky. His legs are splayed obscenely wide, chest heaving as if he's been running around the block a dozen times or so. His cock looks hard enough to pound nails, purpling at the head, wet and eager. He takes the package of wipes silently, and Yusuf turns to the bathroom before this entire thing tips from flirty-hot to awkward-lame in the blink of an eye.

By the time he's finished washing his hands and returned to the bedroom, Nicky's managed to push one of their medium-sized plugs inside himself and is currently bent slightly at the waist and leaning one hand on the nightstand for balance as he wipes excess lube from around the base.

From where he's standing at the door to the en suite, Yusuf has a clear view of the proceedings, especially with Nicky's back arched like that. Between his legs, his balls look swollen, the tip of his cock hanging wetly. His hole is pink and taut around the colourful plastic. Once he's done, Nicky bends carefully to put on his underwear and trousers, which Yusuf now notices are a wide cut. Undoubtedly Kozak's doing.

Clothes set to rights, Nicky turns, expression again inclining towards complicated, though there's something expectant about it underneath. The silence edges into a tension Yusuf can't decipher, although, if he's reading that part right, it's more exciting than unpleasant.

Before either can break it, there's an urgent knock at the connecting door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > "Hence _this_."
>> 
>> "Hence this and _you_." At Yusuf's patently confused look, she says, "He's a fan."
>> 
>> His brain gives out a little at that. Stutters and struggles to come back online, until it finally does and he manages to pick up his jaw off the floor enough to say, "He's what?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story... grew in the telling, hence its delay. Even though the intended plot has not changed in the least. But I guess my lack of brevity is finally rearing its ugly head in this fandom as well. XD I'm making it four chapters so I don't lose my mind more than I already have. Believe you me, this is _necessary_. *bursts into flames*
> 
> Please enjoy and consider leaving kudos and/or a comment if you are so inclined. Thank you to everyone who has done so already. <3

The knock turns out to be Booker, who, after neither Yusuf nor Nicky offer an immediate answer to his pounding knocks, opens the connecting door to lean the upper half of his body to the waist into the room and decisively pronounce, "You're wanted," then lean back out and close the door behind him, although not before rolling his eyes at the ceiling and smirking good-naturedly.

"We're coming," Yusuf tells the clearly disinterested wood, exhaling deeply.

Jamming his hands into his pockets, he spins on his heels to face Nicky, who is still just standing there, the crotch on his trousers doing little to hide the bulge, which was probably Kozak's goal to begin with. Giving himself a moment to regard him head to toe, all subtlety aside, there's little doubt it looks rather obscene, but, considering what they're about to be doing for the next couple of hours, Yusuf has to concede it's kind of appropriate. Definitely different than the sleek outfits Nile picks out for him whenever he shows up in rumpled house clothes with mussed hair and sleep creases around the eyes.

He shrugs a shoulder. "Interviews, probably," he explains, even though he wasn't asked.

Deep into whatever part of himself where pure annoyance at these words undoubtedly holds sway Yusuf can see a shift occurring by means of Nicky's face clearing, presumably choosing to refocus his energies on more agreeable thoughts. Instead, he gives him a look, perhaps entirely incidental, but which nevertheless goes straight to Yusuf's gut, bypassing organs but leaving them a little closer to eviscerated than he'd like in its wake. His eyes linger long enough on Yusuf's mouth he can feel his lips tingling.

Sidestepping the undercurrents he's not yet willing to poke at, he only _slightly_ stumbles over his words. "It's not bad, with Book. Less bullshit if you ask me."

"Good," he says. He sucks his teeth, perhaps a little unattractively, head tipped towards the ceiling as he glances up for a long moment, showing the long line of his throat. "I don't know how to bullshit."

"Steer the conversation wherever you want it. I always do," he admits proudly. "If they call you out on it, well. It won't go in the final cut anyway."

By his sides, Nicky's fingers flex into fists. "It's—"

"Invasive?" Yusuf suggests.

"I am not here to speak. What is the point?" His face is neutral, but there's a flare in his eyes.

Perhaps it's not Yusuf's place, but the quiet of the bedroom, the few minutes they probably still have at their disposal, it all serves to embolden him. He says, "Establishing a connection maybe, which is a particularly daunting task in a twenty-minute video comprised mainly of moaning, but. Keeps people coming back."

"That is not why I come back," which is an odd thing to say. It's likely Yusuf isn't getting something here, some essential piece of the conversation missing for him, because his brain is having trouble coming up with a reply, or even parsing the words properly.

But the moment passes quickly, both shifting where they're standing. Nicky's eyes are burning, but his cheeks are not, and Yusuf has an inkling this is Nicky readied for a job, hesitation left by the wayside. He finds he likes the sharp contour of his eyes. He watches him take a deep breath and look around.

He's missing his shoes, which he finds near one of the nightstands. He gingerly sits on the edge of the bed, a stark reminder of the plug he put inside himself mere minutes ago. Pointedly, Yusuf does not allow himself to think on _that_ , not for the time being, especially as his erection is finally lessening where he's barely half-hard now. Noticeably, Nicky's boots appear heavy, the heels clicking against the carpeting when he rises and walks back towards him. Shoes to ground him. Yusuf opens the door and leads the way inside.

To his right, his eye immediately catches on a too-small Watts copy at the top of the bed, barely a metre wide, the orange too garish, though the lyre string is particularly striking. Behind him, the door clicks closed by Nicky's hand, but it gets overshadowed by what he could swear are the last few notes from Satie as he gazes around the room. Suddenly, whatever music has been playing turns to a pleasant enough guitar melody, and he spots Nile standing on the opposite side of the room to fiddle with the volume on the speakers. They'll turn it off for the shoot, he's fully aware, the days of background Top 40 long gone. Right now, however, it serves to fill in any gaps which could turn the mood sour with too many people fussing about in what is suddenly a very confined space. There's enough underlying animosity with Merrick Studios that Yusuf's sure he's not the only one looking for distractions, however innocuous.

He notices the bed is made to precision, the sheets a pristine off-white colour, a focal point for the eye in the storminess of the room, sharply contrasting with every other item of furniture or equipment contained therein. Where distractions are concerned, his chiefly circle around consideringly looking forward to messing the bedding up. Defiantly, he does _not_ look to his side where he knows Nicky has come to stand as they wait for their presence to be acknowledged, much less to the state of his trousers.

For the most part, he enjoys his work. When the atmosphere is less than ideal, he takes what he can get. Hasn't been the case in a long time that a shoot has turned into absolute Hell, not since he's started at Scythia, but collaborations are definitely the main scenario which lends itself to potential trouble. Watching the annoyance plainly gracing Andy's face as Merrick talks in her general direction, he tries to remind himself that at least he doesn't have to deal with the guy much if at all these days.

Andy doesn't _seem_ like she's about to forget that punching people is still illegal, although he hopes, for her sake, that Merrick doesn't push it this time around. Yusuf doesn't need to tell her what he's like. They've worked together plenty back when both she and Yusuf used to freelance, back when Scythia was a mere pipedream for her. There is a reason the few times he still takes outside jobs he avoids anything related to Merrick on principle, despite having gotten the better end of the financial deal each time. Nothing he can put his finger on, why they bother him so, nothing concrete that could be classed as crossing a line. Simply a general air of unpleasant tension and passive-aggressive bullshit he doesn't have time for. Brusquely asking him to do several reps of push-ups in between camera resets or minimising the number of water bottles on set to as few as they could get away with while Yusuf sweated under heavy lights is only at the top of his list of grievances.

When Nicky's shoulder tentatively brushes his, it occurs to him they haven't moved apart since stepping into the room, both still lingering by the door, mainly being ignored by everyone engaged in their own flurry of activity. A few moments of peace before whatever storm may engulf them.

Turning his head, he finds him already looking his way, his jaw clenched, but his shoulders loose enough. Definitely more than Yusuf's, whose line of thinking hasn't exactly been a destressor. To that purpose, he breathes in and exhales, and Nicky watches him and smiles hesitantly, understandingly almost, and Yusuf's about to say something, not sure yet what, but aiming for casual and maybe a little flirty, but, before he can even figure out what that might be, Kozak stomps over to them, purposeful and focused on Yusuf to the point where he has to check Nicky hasn't disappeared from his side altogether.

"I have some items picked out," she says consideringly.

He blinks. Takes a second to figure out what she's even talking about. Next to him, Nicky quietly tenses back up again. Eventually, in the face of her undeterred and expectant expression, he says, "I always wear my own." He omits bringing Nile's name into this. What Kozak doesn't know won't annoy her.

"Do you?" she tsks, glancing critically at his trousers.

"These are Pyer Moss." He doesn't mention the only way she's getting them off him before the cameras start rolling is if she pulls them off his cold, dead body.

Rolling her eyes, not an unusual reaction in the face of his unswerving stubbornness, she ambles off to engage Merrick in a flurry of whispered conversation. Before he can go in search of Nile for some last-minute touch-ups to what she accomplished when he first arrived at the hotel, Nicky approaches him from his other side to stand before him, blocking out the rest of the room, expression sombre, which immediately concerns him more than every other stressful interaction he's had since arriving.

But, within seconds, his face cracks into a knowing smile, small but noticeable, cheekbones standing out. The tightness in Yusuf's chest dissipates.

"I like the pink," he mutters, left eyebrow cocked and smile softening, stare seemingly refusing to waver.

Steadfastly, he matches it with his own. "I picked it out myself."

"It suits you." His tongue peeks out to moisten his bottom lip at the centre. Yusuf tightens his jaw and narrows his eyes to avoid more than the briefest of glances at the plushness of it.

"Thank you." His voice doesn't quite crack, but it's a close call.

Leaning in, almost conspiratorial, Nicky asks, "Do you think the camera will catch it?"

Yusuf frowns. "What?"

"I am in contrast with everything here." He extends his arms a little by his sides, chest-forward.

"Heh. I was about to say our surroundings, they can't quite do you justice." It's a line, obvious and comically trite, but it's a sincere one nonetheless, never mind the so-called Nineties gigolo outfit.

Huffing a laugh, looking as if he didn't mean to, Nicky asks him with some underlying sincerity of his own, "Always are you like this?" the words a little awkward, yet his eyes are sharply staring into Yusuf's still.

"Always," he mutters, quiet like a secret.

But the remnants of Nicky's smile fade swiftly, and the space between them electrifies once more. Idly, it occurs to him he's yet to find that clever, casual, flirty thing he wanted to say earlier. His mouth is parched anyway. Could hardly say it well if he did find the perfect line.

In the end, he doesn't get a chance to try.

Booker, finally done with his equipment for the time being, walks forward with intention. "I haven't done you yet," he tells Yusuf, sounding like a bad pun but for his harried frown, "and you," he points at Nicky, "owe me a better sound bite than what I got out of you earlier. Come on," and he ushers Yusuf to sit in a sumptuous chair positioned near the wall opposite the bed, his tripod and camera close behind.

Once seated, he shifts around as Book focuses on the viewfinder. Making himself comfortable in a chair clearly not designed to aid in such a lofty goal, Yusuf watches Nile cross the room to Nicky to bring him along to her make-up and hair station. Merrick's buggered off somewhere, while Andy is getting talked at by Kozak.

"Joe, tell me something interesting about your sex life," Booker dives right in, effectively snapping him back to the moment at hand.

Yusuf knows how this goes. "Something interesting about my sex life?" he repeats in case they edit out Booker's bits. "It's nonexistent," he confesses around a wide grin, head tipped forward bashfully, eyes edged nonetheless. It's utterly accurate, but playing it for laughs, underselling it, always works better for the camera.

"Don't be boring," Booker chastises him with a private smile, and Yusuf gives himself a long moment to consider where he could take this. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Nicky approaches them, Nile obviously done with his touch-ups.

He clears his throat. "It's funny," he starts, voice level. "I keep getting cast to top in these things, and that's fun and all, but I rarely feel like it outside of a shoot. It simply doesn't appeal after a hundred or so scenes. Therefore," he shrugs, "if my sex life weren't nonexistent, it wouldn't much resemble my videos."

From behind the camera, he hears a faint _huh_. His eyes find Nicky's, who is hovering right behind Booker and whose expression is vaguely turned inwards. He's holding what looks, from this distance, to be the directions for the day.

"I was hoping for some orgy confessions," Booker tells him. Yusuf, having honestly forgotten they were still at this, churns his brains for a quip.

"No orgies, I'm afraid. Well," he amends, "none in recent memory," and he winks, purely for the reel, though Booker does nod in a satisfied manner and waves him away. There's a chance they'll piece it together to cut out the middle and instead transition from his first mentioning his sexless, boring daily life to Booker asking about orgies, but, sometimes, that's just how these things go. He's learnt not to mourn whatever ends up on the cutting-room floor.

Glad to be out of that chair, Yusuf goes to Nicky's side, who straightaway shows him the paper he's holding, which, predictably, turns out to be exactly what Yusuf anticipated. He crosses his arms over his chest as he reads the brief instructions, hardly surprised that blowjobs are on the menu first, although he does frown at the requirement of three position changes, though, to be completely honest, it's to be expected, never mind Nicky's apparent lack of on-camera experience with the day's specific activities.

Speaking of which, this might be as good of a time as any to poke at that particular subject, if only because leaving things unspoken rarely works and, even then, only until someone gets seriously hurt. He clears his throat, gaining Nicky's immediate attention, who looks at him inquiringly, eyes piercing.

"You were saying," he starts. "Before, I mean. When I was..." he trails off, waiting for him to fill in the blanks, which Nicky does, nodding for Yusuf to continue. "The callsheet. Have you done this before?" For a moment, he wonders whether he'll have to be more explicit or even if he's coming across as too blunt and needlessly intrusive, but Nicky seems to catch his meaning easily enough, his expression still pleasant and friendly.

"Do not worry. I am not a blushing flower. Simply, my preferences run towards other things, generally, but I am... amenable. And, to answer your question, yes, I have, although not in recent memory." Yusuf nods, choosing not to comment on his own words being said back to him. For a long moment, Nicky chews on his lip, unspeaking, then adds, perhaps a little stiltedly, "We aren't very different, there." He nods towards Booker's camera, and, presumably, Yusuf's interview.

"Maybe not," he amends, a little thoughtfully, his brain starting to dissect the possibilities. Nicky frowns, perhaps intending to say more, ask more, but Booker calls him over just as Andy appears, seemingly out of nowhere, by Yusuf's side, and he has to turn his back on Nicky in order to face her.

She doesn't deflect or waste time on pleasantries. Outside of work, he's heard her rant about desserts for at least an hour before pausing for more than a breath, but a job is no-nonsense beginning to end, minus whatever passes for an interaction with the likes of Merrick and his associates. "Got a minute?" she asks, but she's already leading him not only away from everyone but to the other bedroom, which, if this doesn't bode badly, Yusuf has been compiling a list of other things which certainly do.

After the door is closed between them and the rest, he tries, "What's up, Boss?" but Andy waves him off to say, "I want to level with you. About Nicky," she explains after a beat of silence.

Direct as always.

Alarm bells are ringing very loudly inside his head. Narrow-eyed despite the inherent trust he carries for her, he slowly asks, "What are you trying to do?"

"I'm _trying_ to poach him." She sighs, lips puckered, eyes weary, before continuing. "Before his contract is up," she explains, "which would be about now." About to interject with a hundred questions and then some, she cuts him off before he can do more than open his mouth, adding, "But if he signs with us he needs to do penetration. I can't keep him on mild fetish and solo scenes alone."

And that's. Huh. "Hence _this_."

"Hence this and _you_." At Yusuf's patently confused look, she says, "He's a fan."

His brain gives out a little at that. Stutters and struggles to come back online, until it finally does and he manages to pick up his jaw off the floor enough to say, "He's what?" Hasn't heard her well, surely.

Andy sighs, as if delving for spare amounts of patience, as though Yusuf's being intentionally dense here, rather than utterly confused and vaguely excited for reasons he'd rather not dwell on before he'd had a chance to think things through. Taking pity on him, she finally says, "You need a social media presence, Nile is right." They smile at each other, an old joke, but Andy sobers up quickly. "He needs to play well with others."

"You don't know that he doesn't."

"Booker—

"—got momentarily heated, but is interviewing him right now, take two, playing nice and everything. You have to admit Merrick skulking around isn't helping. And Kozak gave him a polo shirt. That he looks fantastic in, but still."

Andy blinks. "Fair. But I need one fucking good audition tape."

"Which this is," he concludes for her.

"Which this _could be_ ," Andy corrects.

Yusuf cracks his knuckles and clicks his tongue, mind running a hundred kilometers per second. "How much does he know?" he asks carefully.

Andy cocks her head. "He's not stupid."

"How much have you told him?" he tries.

"I haven't made an offer and don't plan to until this shoot's over."

Hardly feeling equipped for this conversation altogether, he says, "Right," though mostly out of self-defence, brain churning. Possibilities and scenarios flit through it.

Probably recognising which way the wind is blowing where Yusuf is concerned, most likely by virtue of his expression alone, she says, "You're free to tell him if you think it's the smart move here. But I'm not making any promises, and you can't either."

He does crack a smile at that. "You're annoying when you do that."

She shrugs, hardly a denial, but her shoulders lower minutely from around her ears and she smiles softly, the first time today she's seemed less on edge. Yusuf doesn't blame her; he's not feeling fit to function himself until it'll all be over and done with, but needs must.

They nod to each other in understanding, then return to the other bedroom, only to find Merrick has graduated from hovering to cornering Nicky, who is looking the sort of murderous Booker first described, his intro interview obviously over. Andy tightens her jaw, throws Yusuf a dubious look, and makes her way over to Nile to help with one of the lights.

Squaring his shoulders, he reminds himself that slapping a CEO doesn't usually yield the best results. Besides being unprofessional and thus probably not the best look. Therefore, he relents and marches over with his actual best shit-eating grin plastered all over his face.

Uncaring of whatever Merrick was about to say, he half-steps between them, Nicky's eyes swivelling from one to the other. "Do you mind if I steal him away for a mo'?"

"Actually—"

"Appreciate it." A little dramatically, he'll admit it himself, he turns to stride away, but not before locking eyes with Nicky, whose eyebrows furrow, but, after walking them to the other side of the room, he turns to find Nicky has indeed followed him without protest, for which, in all honesty, he's more than a little relieved.

Now that they're here, beating around the bush won't help them any. "Look," he dives in, grateful for Nicky's seemingly avid attention, "we don't know each other, but," he licks his lips, suddenly parched with nervousness, eyes flickering sideways, "I believe you should know Andy's willing to buy out your contract. It's coming up for renewal, right? I wanted you to know you have options," he concludes as plainly as he can, voice going earnest at the end there.

Immediately, Nicky stills, a long moment's worth of stillness in fact, then nods gravely, as if he already thought as much and this merely confirms his suspicions. He is, indeed, not stupid.

Maybe it's shooting themselves in the foot to bring it up, but he knows he has to. "You told me you don't do these types of scenes, they're not your usual, but, if you worked for Scythia, it would be expected."

Again, Nicky nods. Licks his lips carefully before saying, "You're giving me hope."

"Am I?" It doesn't feel like it. It feels as if he's selling him a lie. Tricking him in some way. Andy and he both. All of them.

"You should take responsibility." They're close now. Nicky's breath brushes his face.

He swallows around a mouthful of saliva. "Should I?"

"Oh, yes." His eyelashes sweep against his cheeks almost hypnotically. They're almost of a height, but he's slouching, head tipped forward, and glancing up through his lashes.

Before it's even a conscious thought, Yusuf grips at one solid wrist, skin warm beneath his palm, and Nicky allows it, body shifting around this new connection. His pulse is rabbiting. There's so many things Yusuf could say here. He settles on, "How?"

It comes out softly, almost but not quite like a whisper. "Make it a good scene."

Anticipation is making his heart beat harder. It makes him bold. Kind of cocky. Not undeserved, but. "I always do," he breathes between them, another secret.

"We will see." And he slips easily out of his grip to take a step back from him, and then another.

Yusuf, for his part, grins at nothing in particular, hardly able to help himself. He glances to his right, to the rest of the room, finding Merrick is hovering once more around a pissed and harried-looking Andy, which makes setting up that much lengthier of a task. The lighting isn't done, even he can see that. And Booker and Nile have been fiddling with their respective cameras for ages. He turns back, content they aren't needed, not yet, not for a little while longer.

Easily, Nicky spots his approach, undoubtedly watching for it, breaching the few steps between them until they're standing toe to toe, somehow having ended up by the wall with the atrociously uncomfortable chair.

Yusuf stares at his mouth and his palm reaches for his belt buckle, hanging in the air there, not yet touching. "May I?"

The edges of Nicky's mouth quirk into a smile, small and brief, and he nods, muttering, "Yes," eyes flickering to his lips. And, again, "Yes," before Yusuf's hand finally grips metal and leather, leaning in.

His mouth tastes like spearmint gum and his tongue is clever from the get-go. Yusuf inhales sharply, but slides his left arm around Nicky's back to touch his palm to his hip. Lets it rest there. Closes his eyes, feels Nicky's arms encircling his shoulders, falling to his biceps, which he squeezes interestedly, and Yusuf opens his mouth wider, jaw clicking open for Nicky's tongue to fuck into his mouth. His breaths come raggedly after that.

They mostly fucks into each other's mouth for minutes and minutes, little finesse, content to lick and prod and twist into each other. Yusuf's cock perks with interest, though it's hardly the point, barely what it's about.

Nicky disengages first, breathing deeply, pressing their foreheads together, a touch Yusuf naturally falls into. His eyes are closed.

"We should get ready," he mutters. "You should take it out." He doesn't need to explain. Where they're clutching at his arms Nicky's fingers twitch.

"They are not ready," he whispers. His breath is warm on Yusuf's face 

"Better to be ready when they are." He leans back, eyes opening, finding Nicky is watching him, tracking the expression on his face, and Yusuf nods towards the en suite at his back.

Nicky blinks. Their eyes lock for a long moment where neither breathes. "Are you going to help me?" It sounds innocuous.

Swallowing heavily, Yusuf nods. They make themselves scarce, discreetly heading for the bathroom door, though seemingly no one pays them any mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm... nervous. I've either underwritten or overwritten this entire thing, but sometimes you just gotta let things go, ya know!? :D
> 
> Kudos and comments, as always, greatly appreciated. They kind of keep me going while posting fic in the wee hours of the morning. Like, please let me know what you think. It's terribly late and I don't know what words are anymore. What is English even???
> 
> Tumblr: [rhubarbdreams](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/)


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